“Hit went on dis away twel one time a preacher man com’ ’long dar en say he wanted some’rs ter stay. He was a great big man, en he look like he wuz good accordin’. De miller man say he hate mighty bad for to discommerdate ’im, but he des pintedly ain’t got no place whar he kin put ’im ’cep’ dat ’ar ha’nted house. De preacher man say he des soon stay dar ez anywhar’s, kase he bin livin’ in deze low-groun’s er sorrer too long fer ter be sot back by any one-hoss ha’nts. De miller man ’lowed dat he wuz afeard de ha’nts ’ud worry ’im might’ly, but de preacher man ’low, he did, dat he use ter bein’ worried, en he up en tell de miller man dat he’d a heap rather stay in de house wid de ha’nt, no matter how big she is, dan ter stay out doors in de rain.
“So de miller man, he ’low he ain’t got no mo’ ’pology fer ter make, bekaze ef de preacher man wuz ready fer ter face de ha’nts and set up dar en out blink um, dey wouldn’t be nobody in de roun’ worl’ no gladder dan ’im. Den de miller man showed de preacher man how ter git in de house en had ’im a great big fier built. En atter de miller man wuz done gone, de preacher man drawed a cheer up ter de fier en waited fer de ha’nts, but dey ain’t no ha’nts come. Den w’en dey ain’t no ha’nts come, de preacher man tuck ’n open up he satchel en got ’im out some spar’ ribs en sot um by de fier fer ter cook, en den he got down en said he pra’rs, en den he got up en read he Bible. He wuz a mighty good man, mon, en he prayed en read a long time. Bimeby, w’en his spar’ ribs git done, he got some bread out’n he satchel, en fixed fer ter eat his supper.
“By de time he got all de meat off’n one er de ribs, de preacher man listened, en he year’d a monst’us scramblin’ en scratchin’ on de wall. He look aroun’, he did, en dar wuz a great big black cat a-sharpenin’ ’er claws on de door facin’. Folks, don’t talk! dat ’ar cat wuz er sight! Great long w’ite toofs en great big yaller eye-balls a-shinin’ like dey wuz lit up way back in ’er head. She stood dar a minit, dat ole black cat did, en den she ’gun ter sidle up like she wuz gwine ter mount dat preacher man right dar en den. But de preacher man, he des shoo’d at ’er, en it seem like dis sorter skeer’d ’er, kaze she went off.